


You provide the bad ideas (I provide the snacks)

by RoadkillJackdaw



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, First Meetings, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Good Friend Grog Strongjaw, No Spoilers, POV Alternating, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Scanlan is just a dog, Sibling Rivalry, Slice of Life, Trinket is literally a dog, Work In Progress, oh my god they were roommates, when in doubt assume bi, will update tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoadkillJackdaw/pseuds/RoadkillJackdaw
Summary: Scanlan moves into his new house share a week ahead of the next semester. Slice of life hilarity ensues as he seeks to secure the hand of the future Mrs Shorthalt, nee Trickfoot.College AU ahead. We're not reinventing the wheel here folks, we're here for a good time where nothing hurts.
Relationships: Keyleth/Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Probably canon compliant - Relationship, Scanlan Shorthalt/Pike Trickfoot, To Update As We Go
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	1. Move In Day

“Don’t drop that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious, Grog, don’t -”

There was a multilayered clang from down the hallway, a percussive orchestra of pans, utensils, and mugs. As the noise faded, a faint tinkling sound trickled onto the tiles. 

“Sorry, Pikey.” 

“It’s okay, Grog. We’ll go to town later and pick up some groceries while we’re there!” 

Scanlan almost groaned as he heard his new housemates moving around the kitchen. He’d left it late this year to find new accommodation, and consequently the only options available had been living with some worryingly devout Christian youth pastors or six strangers trying to fill the spare room in a seven bed house. The person he’d spoken to over the phone gave him the impression that someone had dropped out last minute - a suspicion that was confirmed when he went to sign the paperwork and was asked to scrawl on lines that had very clearly been crossed out in a thick black marker. 

Convincing himself he preferred clumsy to hymns, Scanlan continued down the corridor to the living area. He hadn’t even met any of the others yet, and apart from their names knew very little about them other than they were students at the local university, the same as him. The first day of his second year started next week, and as tempting as it had been to stay home for a little longer to make the most of not having to do any dishes, it made more sense to move his belongings back ahead of time. That, and he’d never say no to scoping out the fresh blood on campus before lectures started. 

Plastering on his most winning smile, he poked his head around the ground floor bedroom to find it empty. Sure, it had a bare double bed and a mismatched wardrobe and desk, but it lacked any kind of life or personality and for all intents and purposes lay unclaimed. Sweet. His things wouldn’t be dropped off until later in the day, so he threw his purple leather satchel on the bed as a means of calling dibs. Given the choice, he often preferred to have the ground floor room - stairs were not for him. 

The bedroom was the only one on the ground floor, the other rooms being more for group use - a kitchen, a large bathroom with a claw foot bathtub, and a living area. The latter was rammed with tired and overstuffed furniture that had clearly been picked up either from street corners or second hand warehouse clearances. Probably for the best, Scanlan mused as he made his way towards the kitchen. Less chance of losing his ridiculously steep security deposit if everything was already grubby. 

The living room itself was devoid of human life as he passed it, but was very much in use. Boxes lay on every surface in stacks with their contents strewn this way and that. A large brown bean bag lurked under the coffee table and was practically invisible behind a pile of coats. 

More voices filtered through from the kitchen, no longer just two but three. Reapplying his smile, he swept through the door with practiced showmanship. 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintances! The name’s Scanlan, but also I respond to your highness, no short joke intended.” He waggled his eyebrows at the individual sweeping up the broken remains of the dropped mug. Scanlan knew he was shorter than most, but he’d long since learned that if he was the first to make fun of it, it lost its teasing edge from others. Better to have them laughing with you than at you. 

The dark haired man before him gave him a glance and a grunt before standing. He rose to his impressive full height, making Scanlan pause for several seconds before he could respond. 

“People call me Grog.” Rumbled a deep greeting from the barrel chested man. He was easily a whole foot taller than Scanlan, and three times as broad. A thick beard hid his mouth, making it impossible to read the expression beneath it. 

“Grog! Now that’s an unusual one, I’ll have to remember that -”  
A flash of red hair caught his vision, a toned figure appearing from the pantry. Her arms were stacked with mason jars full of spices, leaves, flour, and other cooking supplies. 

“Oh, are we making introductions? I’m Keyleth.” The lithe young woman set down her bounty and stuck out a hand for him to shake. It wasn’t the same voice as before who had spoken to Grog; she lacked the same warmth and kindness. That wasn’t to say she lacked either of those things - no, there was merely an air of awkwardness around her. It was endearing. He took her hand with mock reverence, layering in the flattery for reputation's sake. 

“Charmed, darling, I’m sure. A beautiful name for a beauti-”

“Thanks! My parents gave it to me.” She grinned with such sincerity he almost couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. Bright eyes and innocence radiated from her in such a way he guessed it was the latter. 

Further crashing came from behind the kitchen island, pots and pans clearly fighting to escape the cupboard they were being confined to. A long suffering sigh punctuated the end. 

“You alright, Pikey?” 

“I’m fine, thank you Grog.” A figure emerged from behind a box that was almost as big as she was. A mop of tousled platinum tresses threatened to escape the messy bun she had thrown them into, framing her head like a halo. Blue eyes crinkled at the corners to compliment her smile, a simple flash of teeth and a dimple that made Scanlan’s stomach weak and his knees flip. Or was it the other way around? He couldn’t remember. But as the shorter figure walked towards him and gave Grog a friendly knock with her elbow, he found that he really didn’t mind. 

“Grog’s the only one I know here, so I’m making introductions too. I’m Pike!” 

“Pike.” Scanlan breathed, not noticing the frown Grog gave him. He gathered his wits long enough to grin back. “Everyone calls me Scanlan. But you can call me anytime.” The statement was cheapened with a wink and honey dripped from his tone. Pike gave a polite laugh and nodded to Grog. 

“We’re just unpacking at the moment, since we were the first to arrive. Snagged our rooms already! Where are you two?” 

“First floor, middle room.” Keyleth said brightly around bags of dried pasta. “It has the biggest window, and is perfect for yoga.” Yoga. Of course she did yoga. Lithe though she was, there was a definition that spoke of being able to twist and hold ungodly positions are the drop of a hat. Normally, he’d follow that up with further questions, but there was a more important person to talk to.  
“Ground floor, next to the living room.” Scanlan gestured with a lilting grin. “Don’t need to get ready if you stay ready.” 

“Oh, are you an early riser too?” Pike mapped the house out with her hands. “The ground floor has one bedroom, and the social spaces. First floor has just three bedrooms. Grog and I are on the second floor, which has two rooms, and a bathroom between them.” Scanlan counted off on his fingers. 

“That’s six. Where’s the seventh room?” Pike shook her head. 

“The attic. Didn’t even stick my head in there. God knows how cold it gets in there.”

“Well, if you’re prone to chills, let me offer you my-”

“Ooh! I have blankets! So many blankets! Just ask and you can borrow any of them!” Keyleth chimed, ignorant of Scanlan glaring daggers. 

“How kind, thank you Keyleth!” Pike looked around at the group of them, Grog dropping a hand to her shoulder as she grinned up at him. “Well if the other three are as nice as this, we’re going to get along great!”


	2. It's On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little filler. Scanlan continues moving in with the help of one Doctor Dranzel.

“I’d say you were late, but I’m just glad you got here at all.” Scanlan surveyed the mess that was allegedly a car. “But I’ll hold my tongue as a show of gratitude.” 

“We’re even now, Scanlan.” Dranzel drawled as he climbed out of the driver’s seat, his baritone coating his words with an undertone of mirth. “Although I have no doubt I’ll find a way to become further indebted to you before the week is out.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re always getting into trouble without me.” Scanlan brought the larger man in for a hug. He smelled like the leather from his blue double breasted jacket and whatever wax product he used to groom his moustache. Dranzel was an imposing figure for many, with a formidable height and sculpted muscle tone.

“Well, we have to figure out how to pass the time until you get back to us. The band’s not the same without you, Shorthalt.”

“You will keep an eye on them, though, won’t you?” Scanlan released Dranzel, staying in his personal space for another moment. “They need a dashing rogue to keep them out of mischief at the best of times.” Dranzel chuckled. 

“I always do. Now let’s unload before you get sentimental on me, you’ve got enough clothes in here to kit out the band a dozen times over.”

Without further delay, they set to bringing the boxes and bags that contained Scanlans life out of the bowels of Dranzels car. Nothing was labeled. Kitchenware was mixed in with shoes and bedding shoved in between. Coats and books spilled out of a gaudy purple suitcase that Scanlan had once slept in on a dare. Bright umbrellas and posters were rolled up and contained in a golf bag. 

“I’ll never understand how you keep all this nonsense organised.” Dranzel intoned as he followed Scanlan through the doorway. 

“It’s a secret filing system I use to confuse the enemy.”

“Anything you say, Shorthalt.” 

The pair operated as a well oiled machine, long since used to moving around band equipment (or, as Scanlan took to doing, supervising) and it seems to take no time at all to haul the remaining parcels of Scanlan’s life from the trunk to his new room. Dranzel took in the house as they passed through to the kitchen, lured by the promise of donuts. 

“When does the rest of the new blood arrive? Seems you’re in for a few more bodies in a house this size.” 

“I think there’s a few more arriving tomorrow, but three are already here.”

“Anyone worth knowing?” 

Scanlan tried for a nonchalant shrug, powdered sugar drifting from his hands at the movement. 

“A cute redhead, the yoga type. Bit naive but don’t get me wrong she seems sweet enough. There’s a walking wall of muscle, told me his name was Grog - not sure if he chose it or if it’s all he can spell.”

“Sounds par for the course. And the third?” 

“Oh! Company!” Pike strolled into the kitchen, blue plaid shirt tied around her waist over a white tank shirt. Her hair had come slightly loose and twin locks framed her heart shaped face. She broke into a smile. “Friend of yours, Scanlan?”

“Yes, of course!” He gestured grandly to his friend. “Dranzel, my dearest friend and former bandmate. He’s just finished helping me with all my worldly possessions, which is quite a feat if only you’d seen the state of his car...”

“The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.” Dranzel gave his signature crooked smile, a crime for which Scanlan elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Oh, how sweet! I’m Pike, one of Scanlan’s housemates." The height difference between herself and Dranzel was similar to that of herself and Grog. She could practically fit in the man's pocket. Or, he mused as she bent one knee in a mock curtsey, rest perfectly against Scanlan's shoulder.  
"I just came by to grab a snack -” She reached over the island in the middle of the kitchen to snag an apple from the fruit bowl (because of course she had her life together enough to have a fruit bowl) before giving a cheery grin. “Two more will be arriving in the next hour or so. I’ll pop down then to say hello. It was lovely to meet you!” 

Pike gave a shy wave to Dranzel, nodded to Scanlan, and made a graceful exit. Dranzel gave Scanlan the courtesy of a moment’s silence to appraise his friend’s expression. 

“And that would be the third?”

“Future Mrs Shorthalt, to you.” Scanlan granted himself a wistful sigh. Dranzel chuckled. 

“You’ve known her less than a day, my friend.” 

“But I’ll know her for the rest of them. Just looking at her is like… poetry.” 

“I’m too sober for this.” Dranzel swiped the last donut and moved to make his leave. “I’ll leave you crazy kids to it. But… keep it touch, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Scanlan snapped from his day dream to slide his friend a wink. “And careful, Dranzel. Or you won’t get a wedding invitation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Amy. And maybe a little bit for Tom.


	3. All Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scanlan investigates the attic and finds more than he bargained for.

Left to his own devices, Scanlan surveyed the mess around his room and began to muse where to organise his life for the next year. There was more than adequate poster space, the trade off for which was that he had a narrow window that scarcely filtered any light onto the desk. Handy for his nocturnal sleeping habits, but not for taking any of the photos he was oh so fond of - mostly his instruments or aesthetic photos of his compositions, a few selfies here and there. 

Hmm. 

Something ticked in the back of his mind. The seventh room. There were two empty rooms on the first floor, sure, but there was a further unclaimed attic room as well. He mentally weighed the pros and cons as he compared the improved lighting to the increase in stairs. The proximity to a certain platinum beauty tipped the scales slightly. 

There was no harm in a brief investigation, right? 

He slipped out of the door, only realising he was walking on the balls of his feet when he was halfway up the first flight of stairs. It almost made him laugh out loud at the sheer absurdity of sneaking around his own house. Completely unnecessary. No need. Pointless. 

He crept anyway. It would be nice to have the chance to snoop. 

The house was exactly as Pike had described - the stairs led to the centre of a broad landing, with three doors spread out before him. Two of them were ajar, showing vacant rooms beyond the threshold. The third, in the centre, already had a string of fairy lights around it that lit the landing with a soft champagne glow. A faint lo-fi hum filtered through the door - there was no doubt about it, it would be Keyleth. 

He continued on, doubling back on himself to traverse the next flight of stairs. The next floor was an almost identical layout - three doors, all of which closed. Running water could be heard from the middle one, denoting it as the bathroom. 

The staircase that led to the attic was little more than a ladder with a handrail. It lilted at an angle that gave Scanlan pause, but his curiosity had to be sated. He’d always been a sucker for a mystery. 

Refusing to play eeny-meeny-miney-mo with the doors to guess which was Pike’s, he reached gingerly for the handrail. A quick wobble reassured him slightly - it certainly seemed steady enough. The view of the top became clearer as he ascended, showing the stairs didn’t in fact end with a door but with a closed hatch. Curiouser and curiouser. 

Scanlan broached the top and placed the flat of his hand against the wood. It resisted his initial shove and made an uncomfortable noise against the frame. Undeterred, he angled himself and added his shoulder for extra leverage. The hatch sprang open on it’s hinges, beckoning him into the room beyond. 

It was half lit, he noted, as he rose into the space. Low but wide, the floor space spanning the area that would map the three rooms below. Beams spread out unevenly in the space, with electrical cables so intricately looped they almost resembled spider’s webs in the gloom. There was no natural light - no, the illumination came from various points around the floor. Lamps of different kinds dotted the area around boxes, a pile of furniture stacked behind where Scanlan was now in the room up to his waist.

He turned back around to try and locate a switch or a window, but his vision was blocked by a figure. It loomed over him like a silhouette of the reaper himself in the blue glow. The electrical light picked out the high points of the face, emphasising the shine of plastic and reflective lenses. A mask. A gas mask, at that. The figure gave a hacking cough and tilted its head to get a better look at him. 

To his credit, Scanlan didn’t scream. He did however forget that he was still standing on a flight of stairs, and when he stepped backwards in surprise found himself without balance only to gracelessly tumble downwards. A jolt shot through his shoulder and knee as he tucked his head beneath one arm instinctively, but the final collision with the landing rocked his skull this way and that like ping pong ball on a string. Gasping to pull air into his lungs, he saw the figure move down the stairs towards him in a hunched, crab like fashion. It was then that he screamed. 

“What in the name of Jesus tap dancing Christ are you!” He shrieked, more of a statement than a question. The figure held up its hands and carried on towards him. 

“Are you quite alright? Are you hurt?” 

“Stay back!” The figure paused and went to tug at its face. Scanlan gaped as it pulled off the mask to reveal a face. A normal human face, thank the gods, and a handsome one at that. Snow white hair - shorter on the sides than it was on the top - was quickly smoothed back by a gloved hand, the other raised in apology. 

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, but you should have knocked! I’m Percival Fredrickstein von - y’know what, it doesn’t matter, let me help you up…”

By this point, the door furthest from the stairs opened to reveal a very concerned Pike. 

“What’s going on? Oh Scanlan, are you okay? Did you trip?” She worried aloud and hurried over. “How’s your head?”

“No complaints.” Scanlan replied automatically, turning to get a better look at the previously masked figure. “Who the hell are you?” 

“I believe I’m your housemate. I was soldering some of the wiring up in the attic, hence the…” the stranger waved the mask that was dangling from his fingers. “You can call me Percy. I arrived about an hour ago, and figured I would make my introductions this evening.”

“Well that makes more sense.” Scanlan rolled his shoulder and winced. His pain threshold was low at the best of times, but now there was pride on the line. This couldn’t get a vast amount worse. 

The door to the bathroom slammed open, a vision of a naked Grog - save for a pink hand towel over his crotch - wreathed with steam filled the doorway. Scanlan snapped his mouth shut and averted his eyes. Spoke too soon. 

“Well now I know how to call a house meeting from now on.”

“What happened?”

“I fell down the stairs. I was a little startled by the image of a strange man in a weird mask furtling around in the dark in the attic.”

“Yes, and I was a little startled by someone inviting themselves into my room unannounced.” Percy responded dryly. Grog looked to Pike. 

“Furtling?”

“It means rummaging, Grog.”

“Oh. Yeah, that is pretty weird.” He stood in the doorway without shame. Pike was either used to this or keeping an excellent poker face, because she barely raised an eyebrow. 

“Maybe we should sit you down downstairs. We’ll do proper introductions over a -” 

“Y’know, I think I’m just going to lie down and carry on unpacking.” Scanlan extracted himself from the two flanking him. His embarrassment was matched only by the time he’d crashed into his teacher’s car with a shopping trolley on CCTV. “It was lovely to meet you Percy, I’m sure we’ll be firm friends, but if you’ll excuse me I’ll just…” 

Without waiting for any further conversation, Scanlan headed down to the first floor, focusing every iota of self control into not limping. A head stuck out from around the middle door. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, thank you Keyleth.” He waved absently over one shoulder. “We’re all settled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Certainly for Amy. My favourite Percival fan.


	4. Double Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins enter the scene, bringing us to a full house.

With the fracture in his ego and pain in his leg fading from a jolt to a dull ache, Scanlan settled for spending the afternoon licking his proverbial wounds in his room. He should have let Pike look him over, he mused, as he half heartedly set up his laptop at the desk under the window. Or better yet, simply not made a spectacle of himself in the first place. 

He dragged some of the boxes around to better accommodate a footpath through the mess. For all his teasing Dranzel had been right about one thing - it was chaos. But there was a system. The things on top were the highest priority, the fragile things, the odds and ends Scanlan needed to set up sooner rather than later. His shirts were at the top to avoid wrinkles, along with his phone charger and his most recently washed bedding. It was inevitable that he’d be spending the next week living out of the boxes until everything was more or less in the right place, but that didn’t mean he had to sleep on a bare mattress in the meantime. Lazy was one thing, but he knew from experience that the ladies preferred a comfortable and inviting sleepspace if they were to stay the night. 

Scanlan’s laptop blinked to life, reminding him that his playlists hadn’t been downloaded and he would need internet access to drown his sorrows in music. A memory cropped up of a familiar flashing box in the living room which no doubt held the solutions to all his problems. With a sigh, he hoisted himself upright from the frankly ridiculously uncomfortable chair and unplugged the laptop to cart with him. He could only pray he wouldn’t bump into anyone on the way. Perhaps the beanbag would still be there... 

The room was mercifully unoccupied and the router sat in the corner excatly as he'd remembered. Still full of boxes and clutter, true, but less so than before and blissfully quiet save for the rumble of the radiator. Perfect. 

He sat down gracelessly on the end of the sofa, shoving a few bags this way and that in order to hook one leg over the arm like some ancient king. Wifi card in one hand and typing the password with the other, he stretched out his sore leg to rest on the beanbag beneath the coffee table - 

Which yelped. 

Scanlan withdrew his foot and glared at the shape suspiciously. Same colour. Same shape. Same fuzziness - 

The beanbag turned in place to stare into his soul with black, baleful eyes. Ah. Not a bean bag. Pointed canine ears perked up and the dog Scanlan had just tried to use as a footrest rose up to stand and shake himself awake. Leg still awkwardly elevated, Scanlan pushed his mouth to form words. 

“Well. Hello.” The dog yawned before shuffling over and dropping their head onto Scanlan’s knee. Drool began to pool out of one of the corners of their mouth. “Ah, excuse me, I think you’ll find that’s not okay, you brute…” He went to gently push the dog away, eliciting another whine. The whine dropped off, then formed into a sharp bark that made him flinch. Just as his mouth dropped open as if to do it again, the door to the room swung open. 

“Trinket! Oh darling, there you are.” A figure entered and wasted no time dropping to their knees and wrapping her arms around the large dog. “Where have you been hiding? Have you been getting out of helping? Have you been hibernating? Oh you beautiful darling.” The girl peppered the dog with nonsense praise, clearly lacking any interest whatsoever in Scanlan, who was currently desperately struggling to right himself to a normal sitting position. 

“Making friends without me, Stubby?” Another voice came from the doorway. He looked up and had to blink twice to check if what he was seeing was right. Two figures, practically identical in build, both in dark colours with pale skin and raven black hair. Scanlan cocked his head for a moment. 

“I might have a head injury. Are there two of you or am I having double vision?”

The second figure smirked and clapped the first one on the shoulder. 

“Even worse, it’s all a dream. A hallucination. A figment of an overactive imagination...” 

“Vax, I swear if I could get away with it I’d deny ever knowing you, let alone being related.” 

“She doesn’t mean that. Probably.”

The dog - Trinket - barked again, panting and staring adoringly at the girl now standing over him. When they were side by side, the differences were more obvious - whilst rather androgynous, it was clearly a young man and woman. He wore a slim fitting and long sleeved t-shirt, matching black jeans and dark hair tied back in a half ponytail. The woman beside him was a little more colourful, with a blue scrunchie holding hair in a ridiculously long braid and an unbuttoned grey shirt hanging loose over her waifish frame. Neither of them looked physically imposing, but there was a tightness to their faces and an angle in their bone structure that was nothing short of winning the genetic lottery. 

“Well I see you’ve met darling Trinket. I’m Vex. He’s Vax.” 

“Okay. Now I know I have a head injury.” 

Vax tipped his head back and chuckled. It was a rich sound, even if it made Scanlan usure if he was being laughed with or at. 

“No, seriously. Hello. Would you like a hand? You look stuck.” 

“I’m fine, really.” Scanlan, like a turtle on its back in the sun, managed to set his laptop to one side and stand. “You must be the final two, right? I’m Scanlan, ground floor.” Somewhere in the depths of his floundering, he found his boyish charm. Now to hope it was enough to offset a less than graceful impression. 

“Ah, I think we spoke on the phone. I was the one who put the advert out for the room. Her insistence really, we could have managed it with six but Mrs small-dark-and-thrifty over here insisted we save… Do I want to ask about the head injury?” Vax had his arms loosely crossed over his chest - it was a casual gesture, but enough to establish a barrier between him and Scanlan. Something to consider later. 

“Probably not. Very boring story, might damage my reputation as a dashing rascal.” He tried for a wink, but was met only by identical eyebrow raises from the… siblings? “So. Twins, I take it?”

“Is it that obvious.” Vex said dryly - clearly charm was not the way to her heart. 

“Well, I could tell by the cheekbones… and the, uh… contempt.” 

Trinket gave a short bark as he was laughing at him, shaking himself again. Vax began shouldering a backpack and hefted a box of books into his arms. 

“Well, no doubt we’ll run into you later. For now, we’ll clear this room out for some card games later. Try not to hurt yourself in the meantime.” With that, Vax turned and left the room. Vex gave a tight smile before following, carrying significantly less. Scanlan counted through the new housemates on his fingers before gathering up his laptop to retreat back to his room for the second time in as many hours. 

Full house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping it short so we can move onto more interesting character dynamics. Mostly I'm just excited for more Grog.


	5. Don't Form An Emotional Attachment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking begins. A short one because I'm tired and avoiding job applications.

“Scanlan! I’m making fajitas! Do you want any?” 

A voice called through his door, to which Scanlan’s eyes lifted from the life or death matter of his wardrobe organisation. He couldn’t tell if a box of shirts had gone missing or if he had simply managed to misplace them somewhere in the haze of the last eight hours. 

“That you, Keyleth?” 

“Yes! Is that a yes?” 

“Sure, I’ll be right out.” He skipped over a mound of books only to stumble over the bed frame. “I didn’t realise that people were getting together so early -”

The door swung inwards to reveal Keyleth, clad in the same hideous tie-dye shirt as she had been that morning. She finished the look with a sickeningly optimistic smile. 

“Um, I think I’m the first? But I want to make sure we’re all fed. I don’t know if there’s any, y’know, dietary restrictions I should be aware of…”

Scanlan took a moment to consider what circumstances must have come about in the known universe for it to produce a soul as pure and untarnished as Keyleth. He’d known her for less than a day and was fairly certain she’d never broken a law or a heart in her life. It was adorable. 

“Well, I was actually in the middle of unpacking, but I can be out in about half an -”

“Hey Kiki! It took a hot minute but I managed to find some salsa.” The figure of Pike sailed through the front door before moving for the kitchen. “Hi Scanlan! How’s the head?” 

“No complaints! I’ll be right with you!” Scanlan all but shoved past Keyleth to follow her, raking a hand through his hair in the most practiced yet casual manner he could. “Thank you, Keyleth.” 

The kitchen was slightly more organised than it had been that morning, which wasn’t saying much. The corner beside the back door was now host to poorly flattened boxes and disorganised recycling, next to the household staple of a carrier-bag-filled-with-other-carrier-bags. Sufficient counter space had been cleared for a few glass bowls and a chopping board, to which Keyleth returned and began chopping onions. Pike flipped on the stove ring.

“We’ve got fake mince, in case anyone’s vegetarian.” A little oil was added to a pan and left to heat slowly, and Pike moved to the pantry to paw through her little spice rack. The smell of the ingredients alone was enough to remind Scanlan that he’d forgotten to pick up any food whatsoever. Well, unless you counted the donuts he’d shared with Dranzel. Which he didn’t. Donuts didn’t count. 

“Smart lady.” Scanlan strolled towards the pantry to lean against the doorway and hover over Pike’s shoulder. “Ooh, throw in some cumin. Can’t go wrong with cumin.” 

“Thanks!” She turned at speed and swung the door closed behind her, narrowly avoiding slamming Scanlan’s fingers in the process. He quashed a yelp. 

“Looks like the party’s started already.” A chuckle came from the hallway, a moment later followed by Vax. His hair was the same as before, but his sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows to reveal a tattoo on his right forearm in the shape of a black feather. How droll. “Something smells nice.” 

“I think there’s some… uh… fuck.” Keyleth sniffed and gestured with the knife. “Salt. Cupboard. Can’t talk.” She desperately wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“Kiki sweetie, is it the onions?” The redhead nodded mutely. Pike clicked her tongue in sympathy, but was cut off by Vax stepping forth. 

“Here, let me help. Just sliced and diced, right?” He plucked the knife from Keyleth’s unprotesting fingers, twirled it once, twice, then set to work at the chopping board. She made a sound of gratitude before stumbling away. 

“We’re making fajitas, Vax, so just dump those in the pan when you’re done? I’ll add things as we go... sweetie, do you want some water?” Pike went into full delegation mode and was already halfway through filling a glass from the tap.

Keyleth sipped and blinked through her tears to take in the sight of Vax chopping vegetables with frightening speed. 

“How come you’re not suffering? Onions always knock me for six.” 

“The trick is not to form an emotional attachment.” He punctuated the statement with another knife flip, looking up for just long enough to give a flash of a smile. Scanlan thought better of making a comment on the back of that and switched his attention to mother hen Pike. 

“And how can I best be at your service?” 

“You… could… Well, you could go on a beer run? We’ll rustle up some cash and you can be there and back in time for food!” 

“That… sounds great.” He lied. So much for getting to spend time scoping out his future wife, or even anyone else in the house. He’d said barely a few sentences to anyone, and with the exception of seeing Grog virtually naked, he’d hardly begun to forge the alliances that would most likely get him through the next academic year. For the first time in his life, Scanlan could honestly say he would be more comfortable with a little less nudity. 

“And Grog can go with you!” 

“...Even better.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Tom. 
> 
> Comments are lovely, kudos is appreciated, and you are beautiful. Have an excellent day.


End file.
